Forbidden
by Winged Monkey
Summary: Oneshot. He silently removed one of the glass bottles, then carefully replaced the cardboard container behind the plastic container and closed the refrigerator door. "No one will ever know," he muttered. It was not long before the bottle was gone.


**Disclaimer: The answer is still no, I don't own anything.**

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Very early in the morning, before the rest of his brothers were up, one of the turtles snuck down into the kitchen. He peeked out of the door furtively, making absolutely certain that no one was watching him. Certain that he was alone, the turtle turned back around and headed towards the refrigerator with every ounce of ninja stealth in his body. The light of the refrigerator streamed down on him as he stuck his head in, searching for his prize.

"Come on…come on…where is it? Ah!" He pushed a plastic container to the side and pulled a six-pack of bottles to the front. "Come to daddy." The turtle silently removed one of the glass bottles and then carefully replaced the cardboard container behind the plastic container.

He quickly closed the refrigerator and, clutching the bottle closely to his plastron, scurried silently back to his room. Upon arrival, he dared to look at his prize, running his thumb lightly along the label.

"No one will ever _know_," he muttered to himself as he unscrewed the lid. After taking a deep breath, he tilted his head back and took a long swig. "Mmm, that _is_ good!"

It was not long before the entire bottle was gone.

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About an hour later, Donatello came down to breakfast, only to be met by Raphael who was leaving the kitchen, shaking his head.

"What's up?"

The hot-headed turtle pointed back over his shoulder with his thumb. "Either he's sick or he did somethin' to himself. He's just all," Raphael made a face and shook his hands in front of him.

"Jumpy? Shaky?" Donatello suggested.

"Yeah."

Donatello glanced at his brother who was sitting at the kitchen table, eagerly consuming a bowl of cereal. The scientific turtle sighed slightly. There were some disadvantages to being the unofficial family doctor. "I'll see what I can do."

"Good luck." Raphael snorted slightly and headed towards the dojo.

As nonchalantly as he could, Don walked into the kitchen and headed straight to the coffee machine, nodding a good morning to his brother. Now having a full mug of his blessed caffeine, Donatello turned back around and studied his brother more closely. _Raph was right. His hands are shaking and his eyes are totally bugged out._

"Are you okay, bro?" Donatello sat down at the breakfast table.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why do you ask?" The other turtle's words came out in a rush, almost sounding slurred because they were so fast.

"No reason."

The purple-clad turtle looked down at his mug, staring thoughtfully at the deep black liquid. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as his brother's finger twitched every couple of seconds. Donatello sighed quietly. This was not going to be easy.

"I know it's been a bit hard lately, what with all the increases in the Foot's and Bishop's activities as well as all the gangs…" Donatello ventured, seeing what effect that comment would have.

"It's nothing we can't handle." He seemed to suddenly find his cereal extremely interesting.

"Mm," Donatello agreed. They sat in relative silence for a moment before Don ventured another question. He felt rather awkward for saying it. "Y-you haven't been wanting to, you know, try anything that might alter your mental state, have you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Donatello quickly found himself growing even more nervous, "I mean like illicit or pharmaceutical drugs or alcohol."

A look of hurt spread across his brother's face. "What the shell are you talking about, Donny? I'd never do that!"

Don felt the blood rush to his face. "The guys just wanted me to check on you, just in case."

"Why?" the other turtle demanded, his expression bouncing between annoyance, anger, and fear.

"You're exhibiting extreme hypertension and hyperkinesias in a way that makes it almost seem as though you're buzzed on something."

"Well I'm not. I've never even wanted to take any of that stuff and never have willingly." The other turtle was indignant.

"I just wanted to make sure." Donatello looked back down at his coffee. This wasn't going very well. He blinked tiredly and rubbed a hand over his face. "I'm going to get some creamer." He stood up and walked over to the refrigerator, not seeing his brother freeze behind him. He bent over to reach the carton in the very back, behind a large, plastic container.

He immediately noticed something amiss.

Next to his creamer was his six-pack of iced coffees that he had bought the previous afternoon. Make that a four-pack, and Don knew that he had only drunken one of the bottles. Grabbing the creamer, he stood back up and closed the refrigerator. He turned back to his brother who was chasing around the last of his cereal rings that were floating on top of the milk.

"Mikey, did you drink one of my coffees?"

Michelangelo suddenly stopped and stared at Donatello with big eyes, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "Um, no? I've got to go, I think Sensei's calling!"

With that, the youngest turtle bounded up out of his chair, knocking it over, and scurried out of the kitchen faster that Don had ever seen him move outside of battle.

Donatello shook his head, laughing. A wave of relief swept across his body, lightening his spirit. He walked back to the table and poured some of the creamer into his coffee. He leaned back, sipping contentedly. _Note to self: never let Mikey have caffeine. _

_

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A/N: So, did you like it? Did the end surprise you? Please let me know! I love to hear from you all! Flames will be used to roast marshmallows!_


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